Papa and the Greeks

I'm sitting in my in-laws house right now, so I'm reminded of the first time I told Papa about my new Greek girlfriend.

I was standing in the kitchen and I had just driven up from Campaign.  I told my Dad that I had just started seeing a new girl and that she is Greek.

"Does her father work in a grocery store or a produce store?"

"He works in a produce store, how did you know?"  I asked, astounded because her father was indeed working at a produce store at the time.

"Does she have a brother named George?"  He asked.

"Yes, how did you know?"  I was really surprised because I knew this was the first time he was hearing about my future wife.

"All Greeks have a brother named George and all Greeks work in either a produce store or a grocery store.  Does she have a mustache?"

"HA, there you're wrong, she doesn't."

"Two out of three," he shrugged and wished me luck. 

Just to let you know, my Father and my in-laws got along great.  Also, after eating my Mother-in-law's, he refused to eat anyone else's lamb.  He would say, "When you've had the best, why have anything less."

Once when they were in Florida they went to a place famous for their lamb and the other people he was with goaded him into ordering theirs.  He did.

The maitre d came over and waited patiently for the verdict.   "Pretty good," he said, "but still not the best."  He then explained how to do it better.  The maitre d took notes.